


Hunted Hunting Hunter

by Megane



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Action, Agender Character, Asphyxiation, Bloody Kisses, Blowjobs, Damage to Public Property, Face-Fucking, Fighting, Hair Pulling, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Verbal Challenges, Other, Power Dynamics, Predator/Prey Overtones, Surprising or Unexpected Attire, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4515687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megane/pseuds/Megane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The visit was merely business. Chrollo wasn't sure who had put out the hit, but they were <i>always</i> glad to see their favourite assassin. By the time Silva left, his trip had shifted to one of pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunted Hunting Hunter

This was nothing short of a calculated strike. Chrollo couldn’t be sure who had put the hit out. The list ranked from dozens to hundreds and probably even more than that. But whoever it was knew that the other members of the Troupe would be missing — or at least they made a smart gamble. The leader of the Phantom Troupe wasn’t surprised nor were they afraid when the notorious assassin landed not too far away from the impromptu altar.

Silva rose from the shadows. His entrance had created a small crater in the floor. It dipped and fissured out from the point of impact. The assassin strode forward, fists clenched slightly at his sides. His mind rolled with numerous ways this could end. What would be the most efficient way to kill this spider once and for all? Considering their last fight, Silva had many things to factor in. The assassin took the modest, broken steps to Chrollo’s slab. The black haired thief smiled up at Silva. It was too familiar for the Zoldyck’s liking.

Silva’s jaw tensed as he bit back words. His thoughts boiled down into feelings and dripped down from his head to his limbs – filling him with adrenaline. He took in a deep breath, heaving that broad chest. Chrollo sat at ease, a book resting on their thigh as they watched. First, there was nothing, then there was something. Movement, exertion, excitement. The slab Chrollo sat upon fractured into stones, floating freely in the air before clattering away. The book had been thrown the moment Chrollo moved away, and Silva caught it with his shoulder. The pages flipped open, flapping loudly as the book descended. Before it could hit the ground, Silva charged forward, following Chrollo’s movements closely.

The spider didn’t fight back immediately. They dodged and evaded. Silva punched forward, his fist slamming into a wall. Chrollo had bounded upwards, out of the way, but that left them open to be grabbed. Silva took the thief by their ankle and swung them backwards. Chrollo tucked into a ball and spun. When they uncurled their legs, Silva was right in front of them again. The battle was measured in destruction of clothing. They matched each other with powerful blows and strikes from hidden knifes. Silva grappled and tossed, only to keep Chrollo off their guard.

The overcoat was the first to go, and Silva was surprised by what he saw. Chrollo wore a backless, sleeveless black (of course) leotard. It had a deep V neck that reached down to the thief’s stomach. It had been covered mostly by the coat, Silva was sure, but he also knew his focus wasn’t so much on the thief’s attire – just Chrollo as a whole. The second notable piece of destruction came with the shredding of Silva’s top. His broad chest was revealed through the patches of missing fabric. Chrollo noted the change, chuckling softly. To them, it once again proved that perhaps they were the only one ( _worth noting_ ) that laid a hand on Silva Zoldyck. And _perhaps_ , they were the only one to leave behind a mark, an impression. The great assassin was not untouchable.

The realisation came at a price, a small one really. The dishevelment of Chrollo’s hair set off alarms in Silva’s head. Ah, suddenly this was a bit more familiar. He wasn’t sure how much he appreciated such familiarity between the two of them. The thief’s pants suffered some damage as well, shredding and fraying as their fight progressed.

Finally there came a point when the Troupe leader was pinned. Their knife had fallen some time during the scuffle. Chrollo sported bloody knuckles and a reddened palm. It had been a struggle all on its own to get Chrollo to release the blasted weapon. Silva had a forearm pressed against Chrollo’s neck; his left hand pinned Chrollo’s to the wall. The thief didn’t fight to breathe. If the assassin wanted to choke them out, Chrollo was sure he easily could. And they smiled at the thought. Not the thought of dying, no no. Dying hadn’t been worth noting since a very _personal_ loss. They smiled at the situation and the thought of fate bringing them together again. A powerful, _interesting_ opponent like a Zoldyck in this ambled dive Chrollo found solace in.

They let out a breathy chuckle, free hand smoothing against the wall behind them. Chrollo looked up at Silva with those doll like eyes. They could see many things in the Zoldyck’s face. There were so many emotions and minds and plans at work. Which would get the better of him? Which would Chrollo revel in? Whatever happened, it would be a win for the thief. Chrollo decided to take the initiative and reached their free hand up between their bodies. Silva’s eyes narrowed as Chrollo’s fingers graced over his garment, fingers touching gently over scratched and exposed skin. The thief smiled, amused by their own thoughts.

          “Have you been undressing me this whole time?”  
          “What?” Silva replied quickly, his tone flat.  
          Chrollo chuckled at the monotone immediacy. “My clothes are either ruined or discarded.” They curled their fingers in Silva’s top. “Yours, damaged but otherwise whole.”

The assassin internally recoiled at accusation. Externally, he pushed forward, forearm bracing harder against the thief’s neck. Chrollo let out a weak breath of air, brows furrowing and lips rounding. Silva hated to say he very much liked that look.

Chrollo’s eyes drifted closed as they took in shallow breaths. The world became fuzzy, and even with their eyes closed, they could feel the soft edges of unconsciousness dancing closer towards them. The leader pursed their lips and dared to open their eyes to stare at Silva. He was watching them closely. The feeling was predatory, assessing. Chrollo felt less like a human and more like prey. The scrutiny was exhilarating and dizzying on its own.

The first thing out of their mouth was a moan or something similar. Silva’s arm lessened the pressure, and Chrollo’s lungs greedily sucked in air. There was a headache tapping on the thief’s temples, but outside of that, there was something more. That something blossomed in their stomach and crept up their limbs with a curious heat. Chrollo scratched their nails down Silva’s chest, slowly regaining their ability to feel. The assassin replied with a low rumble, adding to his animalistic state.

          “Truly a hunter,” Chrollo teased, voice weak and breathy. They stared up into Silva’s eyes. “More beast than man.”

          Silva chose his words well by deciding not to use any at all.

          Chrollo verbally pressed. “You could have easily taken me out. Why didn’t you?”

          The response was gruff and immediate - perhaps too immediate. “There would have been no satisfaction.”

          “And what _would_ satisfy you?” Before Silva had a chance to respond, Chrollo reached a hand up, touching his neck. “You have such a rough touch.”

          “You deserve nothing else.”

          “I _expect_ nothing else.”

Every sentence was countered easily. Chrollo’s words were challenging with an air of being flirty. The Zoldyck grit his teeth, jaw setting and expression pensive. The challenge was resisting Chrollo’s whims. It was difficult. The assassin was wound tight enough to pounce. He was ready to strike at any moment. Silva's victim was pinned and ready to be devoured.

He had to consume.

His arm shifted, and his hand replaced the thick forearm. His other hand moved from Chrollo’s. Silva adjusted his hold on Chrollo's neck and squeezed, tugging them downward. In Silva’s mind, Chrollo had a place – below him, underneath him – but in the current context, he wasn’t sure which way his power was flowing. Or which way he wanted it to. Chrollo slid down easily, smirking even as the hand moved from their neck to their hair. The broad hand clenched black locks tight, and Chrollo knew they had to behave to _some_ extent.

They didn’t want to make the situation intimate, but they wanted to have their fun. The Troupe leader pressed their lips to the outside of Silva’s pants, tracing along the noticeable bulge with their mouth. They licked over the trapped shaft and sighing audibly for Silva. Yes, for him. This was a show to draw a reaction. At the silent but notable twitch, it was everything Chrollo could do not to pull away and smile up at the assassin. Silva was a beast, a controlled sense of feral, but how much of him was carnal? If Chrollo lost a physical battle, what of one with wits?

The hunter wouldn’t have his prey so easily.

When Silva’s cock was finally freed, Chrollo wrapped their lips around the tip. Their lips spread as they slowly took in the shaft, sighing out through their nose as they inched forward. They moved slowly, mentally gauging the girth of what laid on their tongue. Silva was a _sizable_ man, so it only made sense when other parts of him followed in kind. The assassin tugged on the thief’s hair, holding their head still as he pushed in.

Chrollo stilled, tapping into some inner peace that kept them relaxed. Even when breathing became difficult and when Silva gagged them, Chrollo remained calm. Tears from each gag reflex pricked the corners of their eyes. The thief made no move to wipe them, and it was unlikely Silva had noticed. Drool fell from Chrollo’s bottom lip as Silva used their mouth. The thief slurped noisily, choosing to be an active participant in some way. Silva shuddered at the noise, and Chrollo repeated with each suck. They opened their eyes and stared up at the assassin. To their surprise – to their delight – he was staring down at them.

Silva drew his hips back and pulled them up. When Chrollo stood, he brought them higher. He placed his hands on their hips and picked them up, once again pinning them to the wall. Arms and legs wrapped around the broader frame, and sure enough, Silva was trapped by the spider. Chrollo smiled wide-eyed at the Zoldyck. Their lips were a deep shade of pink from being used. Their mouth stung when they smiled, but they held the expression.

          “How far will you fall from grace, Silva?”

The assassin’s eyes widened, and Chrollo leaned their head back, groaning at the tight pressure on their hips. They had to protect the spots with aura – their forte. If they hadn’t, it wouldn’t surprise them if Silva cracked their hips as a whole. Aah, yes. They were truly flirting with danger.

          “Free yourself,” Silva ordered, the order more of a grunt than a bark.

          Chrollo cooed at the ‘softness’ of his words.

Their nimble fingers reached between their bodies, making sure to brush against Silva’s need before diverting to their own clothes. It was a bit difficult, but they pulled down their pants just enough and removed their cock from the leotard’s confines. The head of their cock was flushed and wet, pre-cum having smeared and wetness it. Chrollo rolled their thumb against the slit, moaning deeply as they did.

Who the moan was for was lost in their mind.

Silva’s hand tugged away Chrollo's and covered both their cocks easily with a firm grip. He began thrusting his hips up into his hold, rubbing against Chrollo at the same time. Their breaths and shudders were out of sync. Silva held in his noises, sometimes letting them rumble out. Chrollo, on the other hand, moaned and gasped in pleasure. They weren’t loud, but it was enough up close. Their fingers tangled into the waves of hair, tugging and pulling to fuel the assassin on. Successfully.

Silva connected their lips in some painful, gnashing thing that disqualified from being a kiss. It was a force of need – pleasure for one and pain-pleasure for the other. Chrollo took the bites to their lips in stride and held Silva’s head close once he made them bleed. The kiss was messy, bloody, and left Chrollo breathless all over again a second time. Their nails scraped against his scalp. Silva’s grip tightened over their cocks. Chrollo leaned their head back, hissing in a breath as their end was coming.

Coming, coming — _there,_ with a flash and a bang.

Chrollo came in shudders, feeling something sticky hit their lower stomach. They tensed their thighs on Silva’s sides, biting down on their bloody bottom lip to resist this _keening_ noise from bubbling up. Silva followed not too long after. His cum was warm and marked Chrollo all the way to their chest. The thief opened their eyes and looked down at the thick mess cooling on their exposed skin. Chrollo's nails dug into Silva's scalp with every stroke, fingers tugging harder as Silva continued to stroke them both until they were all out. Chrollo arched their back up from the wall, having a second, much drier orgasm. This was more than enough. Silva pulled his hand away, and Chrollo took that as a sign to uncurl their spider limbs from the hunter’s body.

It was a slow process, and Silva kept it together enough to not just drop the thief. He turned his head away, keeping them steady with one hand until their feet were on the ground. He waited a beat and then pulled apart. Chrollo immediately relaxed against the wall, holding their body up with some unknown strength that kept them upright. Silva’s hand touched their thigh, rubbing away the sinful residue, and the spider decided they didn’t mind. Silva turned his back to them and put some distance between them. He tucked himself in, cleaning off whatever he hadn’t gotten off the first time, and righted his shouzoku as much as possible.

Chrollo’s boots came off with a thud, and they tugged off their pants quickly and easily. Silva glanced over his shoulder, seeing Chrollo tuck their cock back in. A leotard with black band stockings. The assassin’s confusion battled his lust racked mind. He shook his head and turned away. Chrollo wiped the mess from their chest with their trousers.

          “Shame this has to go,” they spoke from behind him. “Now no one will know of your most recent success.”

          “No one _should_ know,” Silva snapped. He turned around, gaze leveling with Chrollo’s again.

Chrollo tossed the soiled pants to the side and leaned back against the wall. They had their strength now. They could stand. They could move. They would be sluggish, but if Silva moved to attack, adrenaline would help them forward. They stared at each other, and Silva readied himself to—

          “Boss! BOSS!” The voices sparked up from just outside the doors.

Silva glanced over his shoulder then back to Chrollo. His jaw set before he bounded out of the room, this time using the roof as an exit. Chrollo stalked over to their overcoat and pulled it on. They held it closed with one hand as they went for their book. A couple of the Troupe members hurried into the room. Chrollo turned their attention towards them. As the others briefed them on the situation – apparently, they had been attacked by a Zoldyck as well – Chrollo’s thoughts drifted back to what happened barely five minutes ago. The leader dismissed them.

          “Gather the others. We’ll pick a new location to move to. Be quick. We leave tonight.”

          “Right!”

The members were gone as quickly as they had come. Chrollo watched them go and glanced up towards the ceiling. They held their book in one hand and their jacket closed with another. And yet, their mind was the most occupied between the three. The thief leader chuckled, eyes falling closed for a moment.

Yes, the Troupe would leave this place and find somewhere new to reconvene in a few hours’ time, but Chrollo knew that the beast would return. This game had been won, but the hunt wasn’t over.


End file.
